


Two of a Kind

by sp00kworm



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: The Animated Series
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassin Guild, Assassins, Canon-Typical Violence, Comic-verse versions of characters, F/M, MCA - Freeform, Mutant Powers, Mutant Registration, Mutant Registration Act, Mutants, Not following comic story line, Stealing, The Brotherhood - Freeform, Thief Guild, Thieves Guild, X-men - Freeform, based on the comics, romy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5596732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp00kworm/pseuds/sp00kworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A card player and thief by trade, life for Remy LeBeau seems to only be on the up. Card games were easy, and winning the money more so. Although he was a criminal according to the law, his lifestyle was one he had never had as a child. Being a mutant only made him a greater target to the law. That all changes when he bumps into a certain southern girl, who turns his life upside down forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two of a Kind

Remy LeBeau had never been one to play within the rules. No. He preferred to bend and break them. Life was no fun without a little bit of a risk, a little bit of a rush. The stiffs he was sat with now didn't seem to be like him, well, in more ways than one. He was a mutant after all. But, they seemed to be playing the part of the gentleman. Those who go to the fancy clubs and smoke their hundred dollar cigars and play a few rounds of cards with their other high born friends. It was all an image to them, not a lifestyle, not a game, just a visage. That was probably why it was so easy to win their money. They didn't care for the stakes, or what they could lose. They had everything they could every want already, and more. More money than sense was the common saying. They had more than he had ever had growing up. The pompous, arrogant aristocracy made him want to snort and laugh, but, he was milking money off of them like no tomorrow. A wounded pride was great fuel for idiots to pay up, again and again. In all his years play poker, he'd discovered that middle aged men were more susceptible to it, and the idiot kids that thought they could beat him at his own game. The snivelling little mamma's boys were quick to snap at him, and go 'all in', more than they probably should have done playing with their daddy's money. He was building up quite the pile of chips on his end of the table from the sweaty men in tuxedos around him.

Attending high class events were not necessarily his cup of tea, but he was more than willing to do a job that meant he could make some nice cash on the side. Remy swapped his crossed legs over, rested on top of the green matted table. In his boredom, he'd leant back in the wooden chair, throwing an arm over the back as he studied his hand, his head bowed as he twirled a small wooden skewer in between his teeth. Gambit, as he was fondly known, took to wiggling the stick as he swapped the two cards of his hand around with his index and ring finger, across his middle to their correct position. His hands were still clad in the gloves he loved to much, which left his index finger, pinky finger, and thumb bare, but covered his middle and ring finger, plus the rest of his hand in black, almost leather like material. His brown hair tickled at the bottom of his jaw bone as he cocked his head to the side, studying his hand with a cool poker face. It was an annoyance with his typical head gear, but he tried to let it show. Remy watched the group, his eyes, burning red irises, surrounded by black sclera, glancing at the faces of the men around him. A young boy had joined them at the end of the table, and by his horribly hidden smirk, his hand was good. The others seemed less than pleased about their hands. 

The croupier laid out his three cards across the middle of the table and one face down, his face impassive as he twitched his top lip, the small dark moustache wiggling with it. The young man, evidently with a little bit of his father's cash, grew somewhat ecstatic. Gambit was a master of kinetic and potential energy, and he was pretty astounded by the amount of energy radiating from the boy as his leg hopped up and down under the table. Evidently he was pretty pleased with the outcome of the round. Gambit's own hand wasn't bad. His two aces, one of diamond and one of clubs, were not a bad catch, but there was no doubt that the boy had a hand to be reckoned with, and by the enormous smile on his face it was something incredibly high on the ranking. An ace of spades was laid on the table, followed by a two of diamonds and three of spades. Three of a kind wasn't bad. 

The betting continued, Gambit placing a few of his own chips in as he called. The young man was quick to raise him, contributing double his amount to the pot. A grin curled the corner of Remy's lips upwards, his eyes smouldering as he glanced at the boy across from him. Another card and one face down was placed in the middle. Remy found himself in a nice position as another ace found itself on the table. Four of a kind. Still, he kept his face cool, twitching his eyebrows slightly. The other men had taken it upon themselves to keep out of the way of the big guns, and folded. That left just Remy and the snotty nosed brat. The dealer slipped the deck to the side, holding an open palm out across the table before deftly turning the two cards up right. An eight of hearts and a three of diamonds. 

“Call it.” The boy was to the dealer's left, and therefore, had to be the first to reveal his highest hand. Leaning back against the wood of the spindled back chair, he grinned, flipping over his two cards with an air of nonchalance.  
“Full House.” The croupier gave a nod of ascent. The older gentlemen around the table coughed and shuffled in their seats, already aware of the Cajun's strange ability to constantly win in their games already. Remy only grinned, watching as the boy's smirk faltered, falling off of his face as he glimpsed the hand he was against.  
“Four of a kind, mon amie.” He practically purred the words, and the young boy growled, before picking up his rack of chips and storming away muttering. Gambit was rather sure he heard a nice comment about mutant freak powers, but he let it slide as he raked in his chips, lining them up, one on top of another, in large piles. Quite the healthy sum for a few hours of working the cards. He'd only turned up with about five hundred dollars. Walking away with near on eight thousand was definitely something to be proud of. After carefully placing his chips into the small rack, Remy tipped his head to the older group of gentlemen before deftly standing up.  
“Nice playing wit' you gentlemen. Au revoir mon amies.” He made his way through the crowds and to the booth to cash-in his haul.

Pocketing eight thousand dollars was nothing short of sweet, and Gambit was quick to tuck the wads of money into the inside pockets of his long brown trench coat. He was mightily uncomfortable in the shirt and dress trousers he had been forced into in order to blend in for the evening, but he supposed it would be fine, as long as he got a hold of this new technology. His entire reason for attending this event was to acquire a certain piece of anti-mutant technology. High voltage electric fields and violent explosions were not really something he, nor any of the other mutants out there, wanted to face out on the battle field. It had been rumoured that the electric pulses emitted had the power to shut off the impulses to the brain, rendering mutant abilities useless, and well, in Remy's case at least, some what volatile. Fighting a battle without your abilities would be hard going, especially against the higher forms of technology invented to combat violent mutants. The Bio-technology company behind the development had used a good few number of mutants in order to test and create the device. Gambit didn't want to think about what they had done to the poor people who suffered for this piece of technology to exist. That's why he had been tasked with it's taking. Thieving was something he excelled at, and, it made it all the better when the person he was being employed by was more than willing to pay up for something to be taken and delivered.

The Cajun had been milling around most of the evening, waiting for the right moment to strike, but he had yet to scope out and find it's esteemed inventor. The famous Octavian Couche was a renowned member of the Anti-Mutant organisation and owner of the biological technology company Alpha Octagon. Very rich and ultimately, quite influential, he was someone to be reckoned with. Remy found himself sneering to himself as he watched a few men gather around the buffet table, champagne flutes in their large, fat hands. The man had to be here somewhere. Devilish eyes scanning the crowds, he was quick to pinpoint the oafs large group of so called friends. They crowded around him in a gaggle of noise and fancy evening dress. All of them laughed at his jokes and clutched at their bellies. The noise grated on his ears, and Remy was very much inclined to sock each and every one of them in the jaw. Gathering himself, he slapped his typical, trade mark smirk on his face, and strode over to a small group of women. 

Tight cocktail dresses and diamond jewellery was enough to make their bank accounts startlingly clear. No one Gambit knew could afford, or would want such expensive items. Angel was one of the few rich men he knew, and even though the man dressed well, Warren wasn't the sort to go and spend money on large diamond earrings and necklaces to put around someone's throat. The women eyed him as he approached, all of a relatively young age, and whispered as he skimmed his hand lightly across the top of the blond closest to him. They watched him with a small degree of wariness.

“So, what are you cheries doin' tonight? Ol' Gambit is curious whether my company would be a burden on any of ya'?” The Cajun drawl had a woman flustered right away as he rolled over the syllables. The blond was quickly flanked by a brunette who weaselled her way next to his side.  
“Oh I don't think any of us are adversed to your company Mr. Gambit.” She batted her eyelashes at him with a smile that turned her red painted lips upwards. Remy was quick to move in for the kill, his hypnotic charm lacing the words as he wrapped his arms around their waists.  
“What would you chers say to sharing the location of this fascinating new fangled piece of technology wit' me?” Like little rats, they fell under his control. Sentient minds were the limit to his abilities, but they had to know something, he knew they were the young wives of the middle aged men in the room. His red irises flashed pink for a moment, and they began to talk like little helpful parrots.  
“It's in the next room over, in a display case.” The blond repeated. The brunette was next.  
“It's guarded by the elite of Mr. Couche's security team. No body will get in, or out.” The rest of them riffled off facts and figures. Six guards and a number of doors in order to bust into the place. A few scans locking a door would be nothing if he threw a few charged cards at it. Apparently it was no where near mutant proof.  
“Thank you kindly chers. If you'll excuse me.” And like a cat, he slipped away from them before they could recover.

The doors into the next room were guarded by two tall muscular security personnel, two on each of the double doors at each end of the room. There was no way he could incapacitate them without using some sort of force, nor did he really want to tumble with two large men, possibly four, more than twice the thickness of him. Remy was tall and well built, but these guys took it to the extreme. Complete with black suits, ear pieces and sunglasses, they weren't going to be an easy task to get past. It looked like he needed to find those women again, and hope they hadn't realised just what he had done to get them to talk. 

The brunette had singled out from the group, and had latched herself onto some of the younger men at the event. They seemed more than happy to give her the attention she wanted for the evening. Remy gave her a white toothed smirk, his eyes smouldering like red hot coals, as she locked eyes with him. Her attentions were then quickly focused on him. The young man gave him a frown before he turned back to his friends, grumbling about him to them no doubt. The brunette gave him a dazzling smile as she approached, her hips swaying in the tight red cocktail dress, and the diamond necklace twinkling in the light. As she reached him, her hand was quick to run up and across his broad chest.  
“Hello again Mr Gambit. Have I lured you in once more?” Remy chuckled at her, plucking her wandering hand from off of his chest before pressing a small kiss to the back of it.  
“It seems ah just couldn't stay away, cher.” Her giggles were high pitched and shrill, almost fake sounding.  
“Oh you do honour me Mr Gambit. So, shall we take this somewhere more, private?” Smoothly, Gambit pulled her closer, his hands locked around her waist he looked down at her, his eyes unnatural yet alluring.  
“'Ow about we go an' get past dem' security guards for a little bit of fun? Hmm?” Her eyes lit up with mischief and childish glee at the prospect.

All too soon she was wrapped around his arm, tweaking the black tie that was hung around his neck as they strolled towards the doors. The brunette clutching at him was Mr Couche's invited company for the evening. She assured him that she was doing nothing untoward but was only supposed to be an arm adornment for the other men to be jealous about. To be perfectly honest, Remy couldn't care less about her profession. The girl was pretty, sure, but he didn't really want to sleep with her. He felt he had higher standards than that. Still, he chuckled, teased and flirted with her as though he actually had some sort of interest in her. The guards turned their heads slightly as they approached, watching as Gambit pulled out a deck of cards and shuffled them from one hand to the other, before flicking the cards skilfully between his fingers, catching them between his index and middle finger. The brunette watched, amazed as he pulled off a few tricks, the tips of his fingers glowing faintly with a pink, almost purple colour.  
“That's a pretty trick Mr Gambit. I'm guessing you do this to every woman you meet?” Remy smirked, leaning closer to her face.  
“No, only for you cher.” He purred lowly into her ear, smirking to himself as he watched a shiver roll over her spine.

“Stop. State your business Miss Felicity.” She scowled at him pouting and fluttering her eyelashes with large innocent brown doe like eyes. Gambit merely watched as she uncoiled herself from his arm and strode her way up to the guard on the left of the door. His great bulging arms were crossed over his chest, and they only tightened as she drew closer like a little minx.  
“Come on Jack. Can't you just let us past? I can bring Octavian over if you want?” The guard gave Felicity no visible reaction, he only straightened up, flinching away from her.  
“We've been told to let no one past miss. Sorry” His voice was gruff and curt as he addressed her. Felicity pouted, twirling a strand of hair around her red nailed finger.  
“Octavian said I could go where I wanted. Let me past, or you'll have to deal with him.” Jack glanced from Felicity to Remy once last time before he sighed and both he and his partner moved to the side.  
“Fine. Go on through.” And so they began to walk through the double doors until, Remy felt a hand wrap around his upper arm. He looked up at the guard. “Don't you cause any trouble.” Gambit felt himself grin.  
“Ol' Gambit doesn't cause trouble, mon amie.”

When she'd told him it was well guarded...well, she wasn't lying. There was a rotation of guards patrolling the large room, automatic guns strapped across each of their backs and batons on each of their belts with a torch. All of them were kitted out in black with bullet proof vests and a pair of sunglasses covering their eyes. Felicity giggled from next to him, biting her bottom lip to stifle the noise. Gambit smiled down at her, tugging her close to the wall. Her eyes were alight with mischief as she gazed up at him, drawing closer to his lips. It was fairly easy to flip her around and press his fingers into the pressure points on her back. The girl gave out a squeal before falling silent and slumping in his arms. Remy looked around before he hauled her behind a large display case with a pair of old urns as the spectacle. He propped her up carefully against the back of the large display case and placed her hands in her lap.  
“Sorry petit, it was fun, but Gambit has other things to be doin'.” Of course, she gave no response and Remy gave her one last check, to make sure she was truly out cold, before peering around the edge of the display case. 

A guard clad in black, was making his way closer to the display case and Remy watched as he drew closer, before sweeping his eyes to make sure the others were not watching. The others all had their backs to the display case. So, when the man came to a halt in front of the case, it took Gambit a mere moment to grab him, placing a hand over his mouth, and drag him behind the stand of the display. A swift punch to the throat stopped any noise the guard might have made, and another one to the nose, then around his face knocked him out cold. The guard fell limp, and Remy tugged him up, propping him up against the white wood of the display stand. Carefully, he made his way to the corner of the case, and peered around the edge again. The guards had rotated once more, and Remy quickly scrambled to the cover of the next display. His target was in the centre case of the room, to be revealed as the grand spectacle later in the evening, once the socialising had been completed, and the champagne drunk. Another hired guard made his way closer to the display case, and Gambit grabbed his ankle, before yanking roughly. He hit the floor with a crack and Remy was quick to pounce on top of him. Three hard punches to the face made him fall limp against the cream coloured tiles. 

Apparently, the Cajun hadn't been as stealthily quiet as he'd hoped, and three guards were quickly converging on his point. The loud cracking noise that had been made when the guard had smacked his head against the floor had been a dead give away. Gambit sighed, drawing his extendible Bō staff out of his coat. Flicking the mechanism out, he slapped a smile on his face, and stood up behind the glass case. The group halted, immediately drawing their weapons from their backs. Gambit held up his hands, the staff still clutched in his right one.  
“It seems 'ah've become a little lost mon amies. I was told there was a nice display to be looked at in 'ere. It seems ah was lied to no?” The men dropped their guards a little and one moved forward, stony face impassive.  
“Sir, if you would come with me please. People are not supposed to be-” He stopped short when he caught sight of the guard out cold behind the display case. Gambit sighed, drawing three cards from inside his coat. They watched, fascinated, as the cards glowed a bright, deep pink colour.  
“Sorry, mon amies. But you see. Ah've been told to collect that little device there in the centre, so I'm gonna 'aft ta deal wit' you, and take it.”

As the closest guard reached for his gun, Remy quickly sprung into action. He brought his bō staff out and smacked the end into the guard's cheek, the blow strong enough to knock his face to the side and force him to stagger. Like a panther, the 'Ragin' Cajun' whipped around and grinned, his eyes glowing as the kinetic energy hummed around him. As he flicked his wrist, the cards flew out of his grasp and soared through the air like daggers. The guards watched, confused, until they each received one to the chest. The playing cards exploded with a bang and sent them flying backwards into the displays behind them. The guard closest to him growled and regained himself, drawing his baton from his belt.  
“Fucking mutant!” Gambit tipped his head, as though he had an imaginary hat perched on top his head.  
“Glad to make your acquaintance monsieur.” Before the guard could get a strike on him, he flicked his staff around and drew it backwards in both of his hands, his eyes gleaming pink once more as energy flowed through the staff in his grip. After a few seconds he smashed the staff straight forward and into the man's bullet proof vest. The impact resounded with a loud smack, and the guard flew backwards, crashing into the wall across the other side of the room. That sort of impact would leave a nice bruise across his torso, accompanied by a number of broken bones, and maybe a broken back. Gambit never took kindly to people stating what he was like a disease. The other guards groaned on the floor, and Remy gave them both swift hits to the face to shut them up. Where the other guard was, he didn't know, but he hoped he was on a break, otherwise, he didn't have long to get the target out without running into more trouble. 

The device was in a triple reinforced glass case. Gambit chuckled. This was almost too easy for him. He pressed his index finger to the glass and watched as it began to pulse and glow with deep pink energy. Quickly, he sprinted off behind one of the remaining display cases and listened to the whining before a loud bang as the glass shattered and exploded into pieces, spraying the room with a shower of tiny particles of snow like glass. Remy peered over the top of the display case and smiled before jogging over to the device and pocketing it. It hummed quietly, whirling cogs rotating as he tucked it inside the pocket in his trench coat. The alarm was ringing over head and the room lit up red as he sprinted for the fire exit in the back. As soon as Remy pushed the bar to the door forwards, the fire alarm sounded throughout the building. Gambit found himself laughing as he took off into the alley, device acquired, and eight grand in his pocket. Oh the additions that came with his job.

That was until he slammed into someone walking along the pavement.

**Author's Note:**

> Since my love for Gambit runs strong, this was going to be a oneshot character study, but after re-watching the animated series I watched as a kid, I remembered my fondness for the ragin' cajun and Rogue together...thus, this was born. I hope you enjoyed reading! Please point out any errors you may find!  
> Spookworm.


End file.
